Smiles and coffee
by KeikoHPfan
Summary: Non-magic AU. Draco's a busy - and unhappy - man. And his new assistant is really, really annoying. And distracting. Slashy office romance with a side of Holiday spirit, because I'm in the mood. HP/DM
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) - Harry's probably OOC

**AN:** two-shots AU office romance. Cliché, I know. Couldn't help it! Second half of the story should come today or tomorrow.

Enjoy and please review!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Um, Mr. Malfoy? Mrs. Lovegood is here."

"What?"

"Mrs. Lovegood. Your next appointment." The dark haired young man looks at him patiently from his spot at Draco's office door, his face open and honest as always. Draco wants to throw his laptop at him. "Should I let her in?"

"Yes, yes. And bring me a cup of coffee."

Draco doesn't say 'please', because, well, just because.

Because there's something about his new assistant that annoys him as much as it intrigues him.

"Of course, Sir, right away."

And there it is again. That damn smile. Bright and real and fucking sincere.

People don't smile like that in Draco's world. Hell, people usually don't smile at all in his world. They smirk and they grin wolfishly and sometimes they lift the corners of their mouths in a parody of smile that is more a grimace, really.

But Harry Potter smiles. Every fucking day. Whatever the weather, whatever the news, whatever his boss' mood, he just _smiles _and it's driving Draco slowly but surely insane.

Draco sighs and steels himself for his appointment with Mrs Lovegood. He swears the woman is completely insane, with her colorful dresses and flowers in her hair. Still, she's the owner of a rather popular magazine and the Malfoy Companies need her. Well, their fashion and body care company needs her. Which means Draco has to bear with her.

His assistant holds the door open for Mrs. Lovegood and lets her in, before setting two steaming cups of coffee on Draco's desk. He looks up and Draco can see the amusement in the green – too green – eyes. The little bastard finds it funny. He knows how much this woman irritates Draco and he finds the whole thing fucking _funny._ Draco opens his mouth to snap at him when the dark haired man smiles.

Draco closes his mouth and watches his assitant leaves the room, feeling both dumbstruck and angry. And something else.

Mrs. Lovegood smiles at him with an odd glint in her eyes and Draco prays for strength.

HP-HP-HP-HP

No matter how rich Draco is, he isn't happy. He can't remember if he ever really was. Maybe, when he was a child... But those memories are blurred and confused now, and he can't recall the feeling properly. Pansy giggles ridiculously next to him, apparently shamelessly flirting with one of Draco's client, and Draco can't bring himself to care.

He's spectacularly bored. His company's Christmas party is as successful as ever. Employees and clients mingle and seem to have a good time, which is good, Draco supposes. His father is looking smug and self-satisfied – then again, when Lucius Malfoy isn't looking that way? – and his mother is looking straight at him, a deep frown of concern twisting her beautiful features. Draco winks at her and she shakes her head with a half-smile before gracefully leaving his father's side to join him.

"Mother."

"Draco. You seem... unwell."

"I'm fine, don't worry."

"You are not 'fine'. You are looking exhausted and unhappy, my son."

Draco sighs and lowers his voice, turning his back to Pansy – who isn't paying any attention to him anyway.

"Mum-"

"Don't 'Mum' me. Dance with me, Draco."

Narcissa Malfoy is not used to be denied, and she doesn't even wait for an answer. They are soon gently swaying on the dance floor, surrounded by couples. Draco knows a lot of them and dutifully nods when they spot him.

"Draco... Did you propose Pansy?"

"What?" _What?_

"I take it you didn't, then."

"Of course not!"

"Well, you are dating her."

"That doesn't mean-"

"And you are thirty-four. Your father expects you to marry soon, Draco."

"I know, Mother." He knows. He just prefers to forget about it most of the time. "I will propose her on New Year's Eve, I suppose."

"You won't."

"Pardon me? I thought-"

"You can't stand her, Draco. I know that you are only dating her to please your father. I am not sure if you've even kissed her."

"I have."

On the cheek. Twice. It counts, doesn't it?

Narcissa raises an eyebrow and Draco's guts twist anxiously.

"Mother, there's something-"

"I know. Don't propose her. Let her down gently – though I rather doubt she'll mind, if the current situation is any clue."

Draco turns his head to glance at Pansy – who's practically sitting on Zabini's lap. She has good taste, Draco must admit. The man is devilishly handsome.

"Father will-"

"Let me deal with your father. Draco, look at me." His eyes meet her blue ones, and he's surprised to see how soft her gaze is, how... loving. "I love you, no matter what. I'm proud of you, but I want you to be happy. Think about it, will you?"

He can only nod and close his eyes as she gently kiss his cheek before going back to Lucius. He needs a drink.

As he reaches the bar, he spots a messy black head in a corner. His assistant is dancing with a slim woman whose face he can't see from here. Harry is holding her with such tenderness, such care that it makes something ache in Draco's chest. Which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

"A white Russian, please."

The waiter nods and Draco sighs, leaning against the bar and closing his eyes for a second. Fuck, he's so tired.

Is it possible, what his mother has suggested? Not marrying Pansy? Being... himself? The thought itself is terrifying. What would people say? What would Lucius say? God, he can't, he just can't-

"Good evening, Sir. Are you alright?"

Draco's head turns so quickly that his neck cracks. Potter is looking at him, his green eyes concerned and his cheeks flushed. Behind him stands the woman he was dancing with earlier. She's way older than him, and Draco frowns a little.

"Good evening, Potter, and, er..."

"Oh! God, I'm rude! This is my mother, Lily. Mum, this is my boss, Draco Malfoy."

"Oh!" Her face lights up in recognition and she _smiles_. Fuck. Now Draco knows where his assistant has gotten his habit from. "Harry talks non-stop about you! I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, call me Draco."

Now where does that come from? Potter's eyes widen in surprise and Draco feels himself blush – and Malfoys don't blush. Fuck. He takes a rather large sip of his drink and wishes for the night to be over soon.

"Then you must call me Lily. Harry, do you think I could have something to drink?"

"Sure Mum."

Potter turns around to speak with the waiter, smiling that smile again and joking with an ease that Draco suddenly envies.

"Harry is really happy working here, you know."

"Your son is a hard worker, Mrs.- Lily. I am lucky to have him as my assistant."

Fuck, what the hell is he doing?

"Yes, he is. Since his father died... Well... I don't know what I would have done without him. See, he even brings me as his date, the foolish kid."

"Mum!" Potter groans behind her, a glass of what looks like juice in his hand, and looking more uncomfortable than Draco has ever seen him.

"What? It's true! You should have brought a nice date instead of embarrassing yourself with your old mother."

Potter's gaze softens unbearably and he hands the glass to his mother, squeezing her upper arm gently.

"You don't embarrass me, Mum. You know I don't care what people say anyway."

"I know. I just wish you'd think of yourself sometimes."

Draco feels very much like an intruder and racks his brain frantically to find an elegant way to escape. Ironically, he's saved by his own mother. He has no idea if it's a good thing or not.

"Draco?"

"Yes Mother?"

"You must be Mr. Potter! I hear only good about you."

"Oh! Thank you Mrs. Malfoy. I'm pleased to meet you."

"Mother, this is Mr. Potter's mother, Lily Potter. Lily, this is my Mother Narcissa."

Narcissa shakes Lily's hand with a charming smile and soon the two of them are discussing about God knows what and chuckling quietly. Draco downs his glass with a sigh and wonders if it would be alright for him to go home now. What time is it anyway? He gestures for the waiter to refill his glass, which the boy does promptly.

"Are you alright?"

"You already asked me, Potter."

"And you didn't answer."

Draco raises an eyebrow and his assistant's face turns pink. The man looks younger than Draco, though he isn't. He's shorter as well, and as dark haired as Draco is blond. He's not as lean as Draco, though, Potter's shoulders are broad and his chest seems toned. Although Draco probably shouldn't think of his assistant's chest. Fuck.

Potter is looking at him with that disarming honesty of his and Draco sighs.

"I don't know."

"Is there something I can do, Sir?"

"Call me Draco" he blurts out, and Potter is looking as surprised as himself is feeling.

"Hum, alright?"

"I apologize, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. You should mingle a little, Harry." He has no idea why he's calling him Harry now. Maybe he's going crazy. All those years of stress and pressure are finally taking their toll. He closes his eyes and lets out a weird choked laugh. "I have to break up with my girlfriend."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sir."

"Draco. And I'm not sorry. I should be, shouldn't I?"

"Well, you feel what you feel, there is nothing to do about it. And I think Miss Parkinson is, uh, a resilient young woman."

Draco follows Harry's gaze to see Pansy apparently trying to swallow Zabini's face.

"Yes, I suppose so."

Draco lets his gaze travel on his assistant's body. He's wearing a dark blue suit – and Draco suddenly realizes that Harry either wears this one, or a black one. Could it be that he doesn't own more? His shoes are clean and well-polished, but they are obviously a few years old. His mother said that her husband died. Is Harry's salary enough to take care of the two of them? Fuck, how much does he pay his assistant? Draco suddenly feels ashamed of himself. Is this who he is? So selfish that he didn't know anything about his coworkers' personal life? Is he just like his father, ambitious and cunning and cold?

"Sir?"

"Draco. I'm sorry, I do not feel very well tonight. I'll see you on Monday. Enjoy the party."

And Draco flees, blindly making his way out of the crowded room and practically jumping in the waiting limo. He's feeling so confused and distraught that he takes a sleeping pill as soon as he reaches his expensive – and impersonal – flat.

He falls asleep thinking of green eyes and loving mothers.

HP-HP-HP-HP

In the end he calls Pansy on Christmas Day, barely exchanges twenty words with her, and it's over. It's surprisingly easy and it makes Draco feels both relieved and disappointed. His personal life is a disaster, there's no other word. It doesn't help that he has never had the guts to finally come out and tells his father to fuck off with his arranged dates. Maybe he should.

Lucius looks at him over the Christmas' fat turkey and his mouth tightens. Maybe not, then.

"I heard from Mr. Parkinson that you and his daughter decided to... take a break, Draco. I hope this will be resolved quickly, it's not good for your image."

"Yes, I-"

"I am glad that they broke up, Lucius, and you should be as well. They weren't good for each other, as you certainly could see."

"I am unsure what you are saying, Narcissa."

"Oh, please, Lucius! Your son is so unhappy that even the mother of his assistant noticed it on their first encounter! Yet you pretend that everything is just as it should be? Well, I will not condone it."

"Narcissa, you must understand-"

"No, Lucius. This has been going on for too long. You are free to run your business as you please, Lucius, but you will let our son finally live, or so help me, but I will make you."

Lucius freezes in his chair and Draco barely refrains to laugh. God, but his mother can be scary.

"Father, I am sorry, but I will not make up with Pansy or propose her. Or any other woman, for that matter. I should have said it years ago, and I apologize for my cowardice."

"What are you-"

"I'm gay, Father."

Lucius' glass of wine crashes on the floor, and the sound of it is the most liberating thing Draco has ever experienced.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco's first task on the next Monday is to find how much he's paying his assistant – which is almost _nothing_ – and double that sum. His second is to call his real estate agent and asks him to meet him at his flat at 8pm to take photographs and try to sell the damn thing.

He doesn't even like that apartment. Or the furniture. He can't remember who chose it for him ten years ago – his father's assistant, maybe? – but he doesn't want to live here anymore. It's cold and impersonal and too white. Draco's looking for apartments on the Internet when he hears it.

Potter - Harry? – is laughing. A deep and clear sound, as sincere as his smile, that sends shivers down Draco's spine for some reason. He sees him behind the glass door of his office, perusing over documents with his father's assistant – what's her name already? – and fucking laughing with her.

She chuckles quietly and puts her hand on his forearm, whispering something that makes him laugh harder.

Draco's good mood evaporates and he scowls at his laptop.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Sir, you should probably see that."

Draco raises his head, frowning at the worried and obviously uncomfortable face of his assistant. Who's holding a exemplary of Lovegood's magazine.

"What is it?"

Potter opens the magazine and Draco tries to remember how to breathe.

"Did my father already see it?"

"I called Leïla – his assistant, Sir – and she said he didn't. He has a meeting all morning."

But he will see it. Everyone will. Oh God.

"Should I ask the Public relations to work on a statement?"

"I-it would be-I mean..."

"It's okay, Sir. Maybe I should come back later."

"No! No." It'll only get worse. Draco breathes deeply and steels himself. "Tell the PR I'll send them a declaration this morning. And please ask Leïla to schedule an appointment with my father this afternoon."

"I will."

Draco can only stare at the photography. He can't believe it. He's been so careful... Fuck. He doesn't see Potter quietly leaves the office. He doesn't see him come back ten minutes later, with two cups of coffee.

"Here, Sir. I thought it would do you some good."

"What? Oh, thanks. Did you bring one for yourself? Good, good. Sit down please."

If Potter is surprised, he hides it well.

"We will have to deal with this, Pot-Harry. I want to know if I can count on you."

"Of course."

"I... There will be calls and inquiries from clients. I won't answer anything concerning my personal life. Please make it clear for everyone asking."

"I will, Sir."

"And I really would like you to call me Draco."

Harry smiles and Draco finds it oddly comforting, considering the circumstances.

"I'll try, Draco."

"Great. Let's face the music, shall we?"

Harry nods and stands up. Before he closes the door behind him, he turns around with a strange expression on his face.  
>"Sir-I mean Draco. For what it's worth, I don't think your love life is anyone's business but yours. And you certainly shouldn't have to hide."<p>

Then he's gone, and Draco stares again at the picture of himself and another man dancing together at a gay club.

He snorts. Love life? This isn't love. This probably isn't even life, to be honest.

HP-HP-HP-HP

The building is almost empty when Draco finally leaves his father's office. He's feeling empty and exhausted and he wants nothing more but to drown himself in whisky and forget about... well, everything.

He's somewhat surprised to find Harry still behind his desk at this ungodly hour.

"Harry? Why are you still here? You're not paid enough to stay that late, you know."

"Well, you doubled my pay."

"Still."

"I wanted to make sure you were alright after today."

Harry smiles gently, his head cocks to the side in a way that makes Draco wants to hug him and never let go. He really needs a drink. And sleep.

"I'll survive. Go home, Harry. And I don't want to see you before ten tomorrow, understood?"

Harry frowns.

"You're really pale, Draco. Are you sure you're alright?"

Draco blinks exhaustedly, and his hand grips the side of Harry's desk for support. God, he hates appearing this weak in front of one his employee. The room is spinning madly and he feels like throwing up – which would be really inappropriate.

"Shit. I think you should sit, Draco. There."

Gentle hands guide him to a chair and he sits obediently, feeling tired and foolish and so, so ashamed of himself. Harry makes a call but Draco doesn't understand anything the dark haired is saying. Then the gentle hands are back, making him stand up and walk, and then sit in a miniscule car that smells of dust and lavender. Is it Harry's car? Draco has to buy him a new one. His assistant cannot drive such a car. The rest happens in a blur, they enter a house and Harry makes him sit on a twin bed. The dark haired kneels in front of Draco and takes off his shoes before tucking him in like a child, and Draco wants to protest, he really wants to, but he can't find the necessary will. He doesn't fall asleep so much as pass out, and for a few hours, it's only darkness and sweet oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) - Harry's probably OOC

**AN:** And the second chapter! Here's my Christmas' gift to you all, I hope you'll like it and I wish you an merry Christmas!

HP-HP-HP-HP

For a truly terrifying moment Draco has no idea where he is.  
>Then he remembers.<br>He doesn't know if it's better.

The room is small and dark, and Draco stumbles until he finds the light switch. Then he blinks furiously against the tears in his eyes. It looks like a teenager room, with blue wall paper and a twin-sized bed pushed in a corner – where he has slept, he realizes. It smells... it smells like Harry. It's tidy and small and Draco wonders how anyone past twenty can live like that. There's a folded note on the desk with his name on it.

_Good Morning,_

_I hope you slept well enough. Bathroom is across the hall, there are clean towels on the rack. I'm afraid I don't have any clothes that would fit you. Mum made pancakes, I think she likes you. I will call you later._

_Harry_

Fuck. There goes his clever plan to slip out unnoticed. Draco guesses he'd better take a shower if he has to have breakfast with his assistant's mother in her own house – and isn't that surreal? Draco doesn't feel much better after his shower, but he doesn't really have a reason to remain upstairs, and Lily has certainly heard him by now, so what else can he do?

The kitchen is even smaller than Harry's bedroom, but it's clean and warm, and Lily is sitting at the table, a cup of tea and a book before her. Draco clears his throat awkwardly and shifts from foot to foot in the doorframe.

"Oh dear! Good morning Draco! How do you feel?"

"Well enough, thank you. Um... Harry left me a note and, er-"

"Sit down, Draco. Harry went to work this morning, but he said you're taking the day off."

"He-what?"

Taking the day off? Draco hasn't taken a day off since... well... ever, actually. Lily ignores him majestically and sets a plate full of pancakes and a cup of coffee in front of him.

"I hope you like pancakes, dear. Harry prepared your coffee before he left, he said you are pretty specific about it."

Draco blushes and feels more embarrassed than he can remember ever being.

"Well, er... I suppose it's true."

Lily smiles and he begins to eat, not feeling really hungry but not daring to refuse either. She's watching him carefully, and when he's done, she sighs and shakes her head with a sigh.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

She frowns and leans forward, her hands crossed in front of her.

"That's what Harry used to say. I didn't believe him either, you know."

Draco doesn't answer, because, really, what could he say? He sips on his coffee and tries not to think about Harry making it for him before leaving for work.

"I told him he didn't have to come back to live with me, you know. That I was fine with selling the house and finding a nice little apartment. But he's so stubborn..." Lily sighs and Draco gulps nervously. He's not sure he really _wants _to know. "He said he didn't want me to be alone, but we both know the truth. He wants me to be able to stay in my house, and he knows I can't get enough money for the house payments."

"He's a good son. He wants to take care of you. I understand that, even... well... even if money has never been a problem for my family."

Lily smiles and there are pretty wrinkles around her eyes.

"Yes, I know. He really was furious about the picture of you and your boyfriend, you know."

"It's not... It's not my boyfriend."

"Oh" Lily says quietly, and there is a softer edge to her voice, something both soothing and definitely dangerous. "I see. It's New Year's Eve tomorrow."

"Erm, yes?"

Now Draco is really lost.

"I know that Harry will go to this party with his friends. What is the name of that bar again? Oh yes! The Blue Moon. Maybe you could join them."

"Oh, er, I'm not sure it's... I mean... I already have something planned, you know, and I rather doubt Harry would want to see his boss on New Year's Eve."

The question is, would Draco want to see Harry? But it doesn't matter, does it?

"Of course he'd like to, dear. He considers you his friend. Why else would he have brought you home yesterday?"

Lily stands up, still smiling, and Draco tries to process her words.

His life was easier when he didn't have a say in it, to be honest.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco doesn't actually take the day off, in spite of what he says to Lily before leaving her small and warm house. He grabs a taxi and tries to make his brain shut up during the trip – it doesn't help that he has apparently picked the only mute taxi driver in the whole world. Just his luck, really.

He isn't really surprised to find his father looming over a very pink-faced but determined looking Harry, who's apparently attempting to make the older Malfoy understand that no, his son is not in the office today.

"Where is he then?"

"I don't know, Sir. He will be back tomorrow, I'm sure."

"You don't know? What kind of useless assistant are you? Find him!"

"Father, that's enough."

Lucius Malfoy turns around slowly, his single raised eyebrow the only sign of his surprise. Harry is looking almost comically relieved – and worried? His eyes are bright behind his glasses and the blush covering his face is... fetching, to say the last. Fuck. Draco gathers his wits and nods to his assistant before reporting his attention to his father.

"Maybe we should have coffee in my office, Father. Harry? Please bring us two cups and make sure no one disturbs us."

"Of course, Draco."

Harry smiles and Draco feels the pressure on his chest lessen, just like that. Or maybe he's just tired.

"What does this mean, Draco? Where were you this morning?"

Draco takes the time to sit down and to carefully cross his legs, tugging on his trousers in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner.

"I didn't feel well this morning and I simply took a few hours off, Father."

"A few hours off? What-"

There's a soft knock on the door and Draco gestures for Harry to come in. The dark haired man does so quietly, setting the requested cups of coffee on Draco's desk with precise and graceful movements, and the blonde tries not to stare. He fails, mostly.

"Thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome" his assistant whispers, and suddenly Draco knows, and it's as exciting as it is terrifying, and God, no.

He's brought back to reality when his father clears his throat and Draco sighs.

"Look, I just needed a few hours to myself, for once. Our business will hardly suffer from it, and Harry has seen to every urgent matter during my short absence."

"I never took a single day off in-"

"Well, maybe you should."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said maybe you should. Take a few days off and take Mother to Paris or wherever she's dreaming to travel but never had the chance to because you were too busy."

"What gives you the right-"

"Stop it. Just stop it, alright? I just- fuck. I don't want to live like you did all those years. And I won't. I love my job and I'll do my best, as I always did. But I won't spend twelve hours a day in my office and then go home to an empty flat just to work some more. This isn't life, Father. This isn't enough."

"You were doing just fine before all this non-sense about being... gay and-"

"I wasn't doing fine. And I'm gay, whether you like it or not. I was miserable, Father, and the worst is, I wasn't even aware of it."

His father sets his cup down, looking unimpressed.

"You will do as-"

"No. I won't. Whatever you're going to say, no. I'm sorry, Father, but this is my life. I'm thirty-four and I haven't lived yet, all I ever did was working and trying to be what you wanted me to be. I have enough. I will continue to do my job and that's all you need to know. Now if you don't mind, I think I've got a few things to do before New Year. I'll see tomorrow for lunch, Father."

Draco hopes his father can't see the way he's gripping his now cold cup of coffee. He has to do this, he has to convince his father that he won't be swayed.

Lucius stands stiffly and seems to think about his next words carefully.

"I hope you won't disappoint me, Draco." The younger Malfoy almost rolls his eyes. Honestly, his father is so predictable. "And you should get rid of this assistant of yours. He's too familiar and... cocky."

Draco snorts. Cocky? He doesn't think Harry could be cocky if he wanted to. But his father cannot understand people like Harry. Draco couldn't either, just a few weeks ago.

"Harry is the best assistant I ever had, Father. We are on friendly terms, but it doesn't mean we're not working efficiently together. Quite on the contrary, actually."

His father apparently has nothing to answer to that, because he just leaves.

And Draco suddenly feels like a teenager.

He wants to smile, and he does, and if Harry finds it strange when he sees him later, he doesn't say anything.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco has no idea what the fuck he's doing. The bar is crowded and it's too hot and the music is too loud, and he's sure he's not dressed appropriately at all for that kind of place, but truth to be told, he doesn't know what to wear if he's not wearing a suit. He almost turns around when someone yells his name. _Too late._

"Draco? What are you doing here?"

Harry's flushed and sweaty and his black shirt leaves nothing to the imagination and fuck, he's smiling.

"Your mother told me you'd be here tonight."

He hasn't meant to say that at all, but apparently he can't lie to his assistant. Which should probably worry him, but doesn't.

"Oh" Harry says, and he's looking oddly pleased and charmingly shy. His green eyes shine more than usual.

"You're not wearing your glasses" Draco blurts out. Shit, what's wrong with him?

"Not tonight. I'm wearing contacts. Come, I'll introduce you to my friends."

Harry casually takes his hand and drags him through the crowd before introducing him to two couples – Ron and Hermione, Seamus and Dean – that apparently are Harry's closest friends. They chat amicably and Draco is hyper aware of his own hand, still clasped in Harry's, and he struggles to follow the conversation.

Then Harry and the tall redhead called Ron disappear to buy more beers, apparently, and Seamus and Dean are busy with each other's mouths, which only leaves him and Hermione. The only woman of the group is petite and casually pretty, with more hair than seem to be humanely possible to possess. She narrows her eyes and Draco is oddly remembered of his mother.

"Don't hurt him."

"What?" he answers, rather stupidly.

"Harry. I've seen the way you look at him. I know you're his boss, but you'd better not take advantage of your position to use him. I know how men like you are."

"You don't know me."

Draco can't help but feel a bit affronted.

"And Harry isn't interested in me anyway, so I don't see why we're having this conversation."

She shakes her bushy head and leans forward, pushing a small index finger on his chest.

"You are an idiot. I'm going to tell this just once, so you'd better listen. Harry is the most giving and selfless person I know. If you asked him, he'd give you everything and not want for anything in return. He needs someone that can not only take what he has to offer, but give freely. If you're not this person, leave him the hell alone."

"I-I just..."

"Hermione!"

Harry and Ron are back, holding bottles against their chests and both looking rather shocked.

"Sorry love, I had to say it. Ron, I want to dance, come."

The redhead follows obediently and Draco looks at his shoes.

"God, I'm so sorry, I don't what she's been telling you, but-"

Draco kisses him. It's awkward because the beer bottles are in the way and Draco is aware that Harry is very still and unresponsive – and fuck, but his lips are soft.

"I'm sorry. I should go. Happy New Year, Harry."

Draco stumbles out of the bar, feeling like the biggest moron ever. There are tears in his eyes and he can't see clearly. Where are those damn taxis when you need them?

"Draco, wait! Wait, please."

There's a warm hand on his shoulder and Draco steels himself.

"Draco? You surprised me, I didn't know... I mean... Please look at me."

He does, because what is left to lose anyway? Harry is biting his lip and Draco's heart is once more crushed, his foolish, foolish heart.

"I'm sorry" he whispers.

"Why? Don't you want me?"

His eyes find Harry's and strong arms are suddenly around him.

"Well, yes, but-"

And Harry kisses him, hard and demanding, and Draco gives as good as he gets, because, yes, damn it all, he wants Harry, he wants him like he's never wanted anything before.

"Take me home" the dark haired whispers against his lips, and Draco can only nod.

The ride to his flat seems very short, but that's maybe because Harry's lips are attached to his neck. Maybe.

He opens his front door with trembling fingers and has barely the time to get in before Harry backs him against the door, closing it in the process. The dark haired kisses him once more and Draco gets lost in the feeling of hot tongues and tingling lips. Harry's body is flushed against his own, and the other man's hands have found their way under his silk shirt.

Draco moans.

Harry suddenly falls to his knees, and, God, starts mouthing Draco's cock trough his trousers. Just when Draco thinks he might pass out from raw want, Harry draws back a little and his hands fly to the blonde's belt and the dark haired looks up.

And then he smiles.

Draco's world stills.

For the first time since he's known his assistant, Harry's smile is a fake one. It doesn't reach his eyes and there are too much teeth showing.

And it's Draco's fault, only his. He's one who put this horrible smile on Harry's beautiful face. God, what has he done? No, please, no.

Harry's still working on Draco's belt and the blonde takes the slightly smaller hands in his own, stilling them. He then gets down on his knees too, and meets Harry's questioning gaze.

"Something's wrong?"

"Yes."

"I-I thought you wanted me..."

"I do. I want you so much. But not like that."

"I don't understand."

Draco lets go of Harry's hands to cup his face as gently as he's able to.

"Your smile is wrong. It's fake. I don't want you to smile like that. I fell in love with your smile, you know? I didn't understand, at first. How anyone could smile like you do, all the time. So, yes, I want you. But not if you're going to lose your smile. We don't have to do that if you don't want it, Harry. I'll take what you'll give me. Your friendship is already more than I could have hoped for."

"I don't-"

"I think you should go back to your friends, Harry. I'm sorry for, well, for making a mess of this and ruining your night."

"No, wait, wait." Harry blinks and looks at Draco for a long time. "What do you want?"

"I told you-"

"I know what you said. But, what do you really want?"

"I want to see you smile every day of my life. I want to have you by my side and I want to be yours."

Draco closes his eyes. What the hell is fucking wrong with him?

"That was awfully cheesy, you know."

Draco snorts.

"Yeah. Don't have much experience with relationships, I'm afraid. Sorry, I'll just-"

Harry stops his retreat by wrapping an arm around his waist.

"But it's probably the sweetest thing anyone ever told me." Harry pecks him lightly on the lips. "Especially considering you just turned down a blowjob to make a love declaration." Another peck. "I might keep you." Harry licks his lips and smiles – a real smile, bright and wide and beautiful. "Besides, you're not the only one who fell in love, you know."

It's Draco's turn to kiss him, and his hands find Harry's thick and messy hair.

"My knees are killing me."

Harry laughs against his shoulder and Draco smiles.

"Stay, please. Not to... just to sleep. Stay with me."

"Alright."

Draco gratefully stands up, wincing as his knees protest, and leads Harry to his bedroom. They strip down to their boxers and lie down on the bed, and Harry snuggles closer with a chuckle.

"You're not used to this, are you?"

"No. Does it bother you?"

"No. I like it."

"I want to do this right, you know."

"You are." Harry raises his head and kisses Draco's temple. "Stop worrying so much."

"It's... nice. I'm just..."

"I know. It'll be alright."  
>Draco sighs.<p>

"My father's going to have an aneurism, but would you like to come with me tomorrow? I have lunch with my parents at noon. We could ask your mother, too."

Harry tenses slightly and whispers against Draco's skin, making him shudder.

"What are you going to tell them?"

"The truth. The sooner they get used to it, the better. Unless... unless you don't want them to know? Or your mother?"

"No, it's fine. More than fine. I've only got one request."

"Anything you want, Harry."

Harry smiles again, but there's something else in his smile, something almost... devious.

"Get rid of that flat, please. It looks like an advertisement for designer's furniture."

"Already done. It's sold. I'm looking for a new place."

"Great. You're perfect."

Draco smirks and lets Harry kiss him deeply, and all of a sudden he's aware that they're in fact both half-naked in his bed.

"I think I'm going to suck you off now" Harry says matter-of-factly, and Draco forgets how to breathe.

The coming year is looking better and better.


End file.
